On being a Baloney

Today, in comes Baloney.

"Mommy..... 'member when I was black?"

"What?"

"When I was black, you 'memba that? I do."

"hmmm I don't know what you are talking about."


(insert long pause as I rack my brain as to what could she possibly be talking about)



"yes you do, when I was black and boring."

"When, Baloney? What are you talking about?"

"I'll show you."





And so she opened up the scrapbook to a page with this picture:


And now it makes all the sense in the world.

Boring = born, and I should have remembered that since all december long she would play with our nativity and talk about baby Jesus being boring. And clearly, being black, as you can see makes sense.

Thus is a moment in the life of being Baloney's mom.